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“Hold on!” Pope (played by Oscar Isaac) warns the ragged South American coca farmer wielding a machete to stay away from their money, $250 million, spread out like a yard sale, having just plunged thousands of feet from a crippled and crashing Mi8 Russian helicopter.

“Hold on!” is most appropriate and may very well have been the best mantra for those who dared to journey on the wild ride that was Triple Frontier.

Originally scripted by Mark Boal with Kathryn Bigelow attached to direct, Atlas Entertainment developed this project for several years, looking for the right talent and the right timing to bring this story to life. Some three years ago, when the tides were shifting, J.C. Chandor took the directing helm and now, Triple Frontier has finally come to life. Backed by Netflix and a willingness to gamble on original content, their global exposure gave life to this compelling story about morality, friendship, brotherhood and greed that ultimately tears these characters apart from the inside out.

The story follows five ex-Special Forces members who cross the Brazil border intending to steal $75 million from an “El Chapo”-like drug lord who lives deep in the South American jungle. For myself, this adventure/heist film has been an intimate world-building experience hyperfocused on a very nondescript location of intersecting countries in South America known as the “Triple Frontier.” The borders of Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay play as both inspiration and background for the fictional world that would need to be created to tell this story. Starting with base locations in Hawaii, Colombia and the High Sierras in Northern California, the goal was to find the journey, capture the spirit and imagine the gritty, realistic environments that support the storytelling. There were many challenges set forth by remote locations, unpredictable weather and an ever-shifting goal line on a production plagued by a fluctuating cast. I do believe when films finally get made, some kind of small miracle has happened. Oddly enough, in the case of this project, aptly titled Triple Frontier, it took three production runs to finally complete the film.

B. BLACKHAWK LANDING IN THE DILAPIDATED SOCCER FIELD ON THE HILLSIDE OF LA ISLA. PHOTO COMPOSITE BY GREG BERRY

I was brought on as the Production Designer in the second iteration following a temporary shutdown and exchange of property between studios. Darren Gilford, who hired me onto the first round, was no longer available and with his generous support, J.C. and Alex Gartner shepherded me into the Production Design position as Netflix took ownership and casting was underway. Not only did I “hold on” but so many others who were on this journey with me continued steadfastly navigating the shifting dates. Despite the incredible odds, so much love and care continued to be poured into this project on every level.

J.C.’s son put it best when we were shut down for the second time, one week out from principal photography. He was asked, “What is your dad’s superpower?”

His reply, “He never gives up.”

A. THE EXPLOSION AFTERMATH AT THE NIGHTCLUB INTERIOR. SET PHOTO BY GREG BERRY.

On the remote outer edges of Bogotá, Colombia, the production found the most fascinating wild, wild west city named La Isla. Organically grown on the side of a small mountain, the Colombian government incentivized and allowed the local people to lay claim to small parcels of land and homestead the property. If that individual can eventually develop the property by pouring a proper foundation and constructing a dwelling, the government will then transfer deed ownership to that person. At the communities core, it is a fascinating look at the incremental achievements of diligence and hard work.

In tiny shops on main streets made of dirt, bakers, woodworkers, metal fabricators, mechanics, barbers, construction supply and grocery store owners sell their wares and services to the community at large, lifting themselves up in a uniquely disconnected city perched on a hillside far from the city center of Bogotá. As a tangle of dirt roads wind back-and-forth up the side of this hill, one noticeable two-story building sits at the intersection of five converging roads. It is there, in the hustle and bustle of a growing community, that a spirited nightclub that would become the narco stronghold was found.

The story introduces Pope, an ex-Special Forces gun-for-hire working alongside the government police to help curb narco drug trafficking. He wakes up inside of a Blackhawk helicopter skimming over rolling hills populated with shanty shacks made of weathered tin, wood pallets, stacked terra-cotta bricks and old vinyl signs draped, in some cases, for walls or awnings. From the air, this is the most spectacularly organic art project, but life on the ground is rooted in the poverty-stricken community where drug trade runs rampant.

At the base of the hill in La Isla, a uniquely weathered soccer field with goals built from bamboo poles tied together by frayed rope was chosen as the initial landing zone for the raid. J.C. loved the idea of kids playing on the soccer field having to scatter when this massive Blackhawk helicopter touches down.

Executive producer Thomas Hayslip and our production service company Dynamo worked with the community to secure this densely populated area, clearing the way for the production to move in and shoot the location. This was a massive effort that eventually brought some nine hundred jobs to the local community. The city center always stood to be the most challenging location, considering the film was requesting to blow up one of their buildings. Of course, this request was the Hollywood version, made to look imminently more severe than the controlled mortor blasts provided by special effects supervisor Eric Frazier.

For the interior set, changeover time was allotted so the paint and dressing crew could swoop in and shape the final look. Art Directors Dave Scott and Maria F. Munoz looked after the construction and paint details while set decorator Jay Hart and leadman John Naehrlich worked closely with the local crew, creating and dressing aftermath debris filled with charred and broken furniture.

Amidst the carnage of this explosion, Pope and the government police interrogate the survivors. Crumbling under coercive tactics, one narco, hoping to save his own life, purports to give up the location of one of the most notorious drug lords in South America.

A. THE FARMER AND THE MULE CROSS THE BRIDGE. ILLUSTRATED IN PHOTOSHOP BY ROBERT SIMONS.

ENTERING THE TRIPLE FRONTIER

In a moment of early foreshadowing, this scene set out to establish a point of no return and an omen of what journey may lie ahead. Replete with bent, broken and rusted away handrail, the endless one-lane bridge leads to an abandoned border crossing at the frontier’s edge, where lawlessness runs wild among rival cartels and the drug trade flourishes with abandon.

A lone mule, overpacked and weighted down, lumbers along with a weathered farmer walking in the lead. A life of hard labor and little reward. Although fleeting in the moment, a deeper sentiment prevails as the weight of their journey begins to unfold.

On the North Shore of Oahu, the production found just such a bridge, one that was not crossing a river but instead, a wide inlet leading out to the ocean.

Brackish water protected by a breakwall provided a slow-moving river in one direction with a dilapidated old bridge that spoke to the remote South American scene needed. With the help of Mark Russell in visual effects, the deep backdrop of the Andes Mountains was inserted to help direct the story of their travel.

The border crossing itself was an invention based on an amalgam of compelling research of existing countries with old, abandoned, long-forgotten border crossings. To add a level of realism, Wendy Stokes designed several border crossing signs in a mix of Portuguese, Spanish and English, all aged accordingly to speak to a time long lost. All intended to give the characters one final look at the world they were entering.

Gabriel Martin Lorea is Pope’s last bad man. A figure inspired by “El Chapo” and the lavish wealth and power narco drug trafficking has afforded him. But this is an El Chapo on the run and hiding out in the jungle with his hundreds of millions in cash. Thought to be only one of seven safe houses, this particular one sits deep in a South American rain forest, rotting away and consumed by the vegetation. The decay being a visual metaphor defining Lorea’s crumbling empire as the noose tightens further around his neck.

As a bit of luck might have it, the production was introduced to an historic Spanish home built in 1932 in the belly of Nuuanu Valley not far from the production offices in Honolulu. Sitting amid a subdivided community of homes, this five-acre parcel of land was isolated by a lush, dense jungle of greenery. It immediately had the bones of a strong centerpiece where the setting for the heist could be created. It was unique in concept and felt different and compelling enough to break the genre mold of the contemporary modern design scripted in early drafts of the story.

The sunken backyard had a deep, winding creek crossing the property separating an overgrown yard leading to a dilapidated, overflowing pool and crumbling Spanish pool house. Backed up to the mountainside, the perch above the pool house provided a perfect point of surveillance and

approach.

A. DRESSED INTERIOR OF LOREA’S LIVING ROOM. SET PHOTO BY GREG BERRY.

THE HOUSE IS THE SAFE

The house itself was empty when it was found and in transition from one owner to the next. This turned out to be a perfect blank canvas to craft, paint and dress an imagined world of nearly eight decades of slow and steady decay. The layers of dressing presented opportunities to show echoes of historic wealth juxtaposed against modern-day amenities. The first step in this transformation was to paint the canvas. Over the course of two productions and approximately twelve months, lead scenics Mike Mikita Jr. and James Passanante worked tirelessly with their crew painting every square inch of this house inside and out. Supervising Art Director Peter Borck managed all the complexities and kept a careful and detailed eye on the developing look.

Despite the expansive size of this mansion, the Art Department was challenged with one particular room that did not exist. Working with the concept that the house is the safe, it became clear early on in the process that Lorea’s office would need to be a built set on stage in order to handle the multiple takes necessary to tell the story of discovering the money hidden in the walls. In a small warehouse on the Kaneohe side of Oahu, one room with four wild walls was built, with three copies of each wall to accommodate multiple takes. Built on casters, each wall had back panels that could be removed to fill the cavity between the studs with stacked cash two layers deep from floor to ceiling. Construction coordinator Dale DeStefani and plaster foreman Glen Hoofman worked together testing different sample panels until they were able to achieve the right plaster mixture combined with enough lathe scoring to provide the actors a breakable density that would not cause injury.

To dress the final layers, set decorator Jay Hart shopped in both Colombia and LA to find all the necessary details that would bring this concept to life. As part of Lorea’s character, J.C. loved the idea that he was an art collector and dealt in the black market trade of rare and stolen paintings. In addition to the cash squirreled away in the wall recesses of his house, Lorea would also be in possession of works by Degas, Monet, Van Gogh, Da Vinci and many more world-famous painters. Believed to be the most expensive, unrecovered piece of art ever stolen, Vermeer’s The Concert was recreated as a key prop Redfly would take moments before he burns the house. Working with buyer Mick Cummings in LA and a local buyer in Bogotá, Jay and I provided a well-researched list of art, furniture and other details that would eventually help give an authentic, layered look to the overall setting.

DEATH IN THE COCA FIELDS

BOOM! A loud noise is followed by smoke pouring into the cabin of the helicopter…

When the overbearing weight of the money causes a gear box to blow at eleven thousand feet, moments before the film’s heroes can cross the ridge of the Andes, the helicopter drops into a spin that ultimately sends them torpedoing down the mountain range to a green valley below. In a dramatic moment to attempt a safe landing, they are forced to cut the long line holding their bags of money which subsequently drops into the same coca field where they finally crash land.

The indigenous local coca farmers quickly gather around the downed cash, and once the helicopter comes out of its harrowing spin to a final resting point, the group is left to face off with the locals who mistake them for DEA. A tense standoff ensues which ends in the unexpected death of several villagers as they contest the ownership of the money.

A. INTERIOR ELDER’S HUT. SET PHOTO BY MELINDA SUE GORDON.

In addition to the complex helicopter work, Art Director Dave Scott took on this unruly location with construction foreman George Stokes. Together, with a small crew over many weeks of preproduction, they endured incredibly difficult rainfall and mud, all while building the village within a steep valley in Kualoa Ranch. One of the bigger sets the crew was challenged to create, the goal was to bring authenticity and a certain minimalism to the life of these coca farmers who live deep in the fertile, South American mountains.

Special care was taken to shop, hand select or craft a “found materials” look that would make up the village structures and dressing. As a rule, the majority of this world was either found locally or brought in by mule, such as rusted tin for roofing or basic supplies that could get repurposed for other uses.

Since this village was run by narcos, it was speculated that every so often, a helicopter might bring in larger cocaine-processing supplies on pallets in 50-gallon drums. Set decorator Jay Hart worked closely with his crew to create handmade furniture and bring local fabrics and wares shopped in Colombia and shipped into Hawaii.

The village itself was laid out in a hierarchy of status that topped out with what was referred to as the elder’s hut. This setting held importance to the storytelling as it sets up the gauntlet to the top of the hill on a trail dubbed “the walk of shame.” After killing some of the local farmers, the guys are then forced to intimately walk past the traumatized families of the men they just killed.

All aspects of the built hut and the dressing within it was looked after in detail to set the scene grounded in a believable realism. Within this set and perched at the top of the hill, Redfly must pay the elder for each life taken and the mules they intended to take. In order to exit, the group must continue to walk the gauntlet but are momentarily held up by a village boy who lost his father. After a brief but ominous moment, the village elder calls him off, but the scene plays to a grim foreshadowing of what is to come. Born from their narcissistic self-interest and abandoned morality, fate continues to collide against these severely flawed protagonists as they get what they deserve in the end.

For many of us who did not know what was to come, Triple Frontier as a whole presented the filmmakers with many challenges along its storied journey from script to screen. On the last leg of an unexpected journey, through three productions, two studios and roughly eighteen months, many came and went, but all contributed to the beautiful, final look that made up this unique and exciting adventure on what I like to refer as “the wild ride that was.” ADG